“Cool. He’s my family, too.” Andy picks up a crayon from the cup in front of him that the server must have placed before I arrived and starts to color the place mat—a kid after my own heart.
“I think you should hang a tire swing on that tree,” he says, keeping his focus on the place mat.
“You do, huh?” I grab a crayon and begin doodling along with him. I could totally get used to having kids around. In all the years we’ve been coming here, it’s the first time we got crayons.
“Yup, my daddy said before we moved, we would have a real big yard and could build a swing set or a tree house, but I think I want a tire swing.”
I find inspiration from our conversation and grab a brown and green crayon from the cup.
“I think a tree house is pretty cool. We had one growing up.” I find talking to this kid easier than talking to most adults these days.
Andy pauses and tilts his head to the side. “What did you do in it?”
“Well, I know what Kyler did in it,” Finn mumbles, and Ky chokes on his drink. I’m not sure what that’s all about, but I have a feeling it’s not appropriate for little ears, so I turn to focus my conversation back on Andy.
I swap out the brown crayon for a black one. “Umm, well, we played hide-and-seek and even camped out once. It was fun.” I don’t mention that as a teenager, it was the perfect escape from the house when my parents would argue.
“That sounds cool.” He glances over my drawing, but I pretend like I’m back in the third grade and cover my paper with my forearm. He giggles and sticks his tongue out before mimicking my move. But since I’m much taller than him, I can see right over his little arm, but I go along with it.
After a moment, he returns to his drawing. “I think I still want a tire swing.”
“Yeah, how come?” I’m putting the final touches on the picture.
Andy looks at his dad, whose expression is hard to read as he focuses on us. “My mom had a tire swing when she was little.”
Words catch in my throat at this little boy in front of me. Scared that I might say something stupid, I remain silent. Honestly, I don’t even know how to respond to him.
He pushes his place mat forward to show what I guess, based on the coloring, is a fire truck.
“What did you draw?” He pushes up on his elbows to see better.
With one last look at my picture, I’m overcome with emotion. I’m suddenly torn over whether I should show it. When I started drawing it, I didn’t know the meaning behind it.
I spin the place mat around to reveal a tree standing alone in a grassy field with a tire swing hanging from one of its extended branches. It’s a simple drawing, having only a few basic crayons, but I could give the bark of the tree dimension with shading, and it’s a stark contrast to the light blue sky background. It’s all in the details.
“Look, Daddy! She drew a tire swing. Just like Mommy used to have.” The side conversations going on at the table all halt. Andy holds it up close to Jaxon’s face, probably too close for him to actually see it. I’m impressed he didn’t smack his dad in the face with it with his excitement.
Jaxon places his hands on the place mat and pulls it down but never looks at the image. If Andy noticed, he doesn’t let on, but I did. Wow, fuck you, too.
I look down at my lap and clear my throat, hoping that will keep the anger that begs to be unleashed on Jaxon. I do something nice for your son and you’re still a dick? I seriously can’t win.
“Can I keep it? Please,” he pleads.
“Sure thing.” I smile at him. It’s amazing that something so simple puts such a smile on his face. I look around and flag the server down and request a new place mat, not wanting to ruin it when the food arrives.
After the waitress brings one to me, my eyes drift to Jaxon, whose jaw is so taut I feel like I should call his dentist to make an appointment to get his ground molars replaced. The pinch in his brows creates wrinkles in his forehead. Anger is coming off him in waves. What the fuck is his problem? A shiver goes up my spine, and I don’t know if it’s from the chill of his cold disposition or something else, but I’m not in the mood to find out.
I could easily make up an excuse to leave, but then I’d feel the wrath of my family, plus I’m fucking starving, and the Cajun chicken and sausage pasta is exactly what I need to make all right back in the world.
A short while later, the waitress delivers our meals, and it’s quite impressive there’s room for anything else.
The rest of dinner goes off… not exactly smooth. The tension rose back up after my drawing. Here I thought I could bond with his kid to make him not be a dick, but Jesús. I’m pretty sure the man murdered me seven ways from Sunday in his mind. I give my family a brief goodbye and ignore him as I all but run to my car, needing a reprieve.
Too bad it’s short-lived because his brake lights flash behind me before I even get out of my car as Lord Dickhead himself pulls into his driveway.